


you couldn't call?

by awespiring



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, awkward naked situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19429360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awespiring/pseuds/awespiring
Summary: Peter could add this to the list of 'weird and embarrassing things that have happened while getting stitched up'.





	you couldn't call?

Peter despises muggings because no matter how hard he tries, he comes out of it with some kind of wound. The attackers are always carrying knives, something more inconspicuous and that wouldn’t make a lot of noise. Practical, but a complete pain in the ass during hand to hand combat. Despite that, he would never let a mugger get away, so it was worth the pain he endured. Faster healing would be nice, granted it is faster than most normal humans, it still isn’t fast enough to heal instantaneously.

He knocks on MJ’s window later that night. She always patched up his wounds when he couldn’t do it himself. This one happened to be on the back of his thigh and was almost impossible to get as clean as he normally could by himself. MJ was quick and precise, always kept the pain to a minimal. Peter always tells her how great of a nurse she would make, but she hates hospitals. Something about spending too much time there as a kid, she wouldn’t elaborate.

Peter continues knocking with no answer and that’s enough to prompt him to check the window, luckily it was unlocked. He lifts it up and climbs inside, trying to minimize the mess of blood as much as possible.

He figures that maybe she stepped out, walked down the street to the corner store to grab a few things. It wasn’t unlikely, but he still calls her name anyways.

“MJ?” He asks aloud. No answer. He shrugs and grabs the first aid kit hidden under her bed and places it on the sheet. Pressing the spider at the middle of his chest, the suit decompresses and drops to his ankles instantly. Well, not the first time he’s been in this situation. MJ had seen him half-naked enough now that it didn’t even faze her–that or she was good enough at hiding it.

He sets up a make-shift pallet on the floor with some gauze and an old blanket hidden under the bed that she liked to use for the bigger wounds. Surprisingly, it wasn’t covered in blood but Peter wasn’t too sure about his skill set and it would probably be a mess when he was done.

Peter was getting ready to take a seat on the floor–suit already discarded to the side–when MJ walks in. But, it’s nothing like Peter expected. He figured she might walk in with a bag or two, but no. Absolutely not. And now he’s staring at MJ, who’s wearing nothing and hair dripping wet, draped across her shoulders.

“ _PETER_!”

“Shit, MJ-” Peter blushes intensely, not knowing where to look, so he settles for her eyes. But, now he realizes that they’re both–for a better lack of words–almost naked in front of each other, 

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” MJ asks, shielding her body while she snatches the towel hanging on the back of the door, wrapping it around herself.

“I got hurt.”

“You couldn’t _call_?”

“The window was open.”

MJ’s eyes narrow and she looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. She had told him that he was always welcome, whether she was there or not. So, it was her mistake.

“ _Well_ , first of all, you’re making a mess.” She tells him, walking over to kneel in front of him. He proceeds to knock the bottle of peroxide over, causing him to curse.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to–” MJ reaches over his lap and picks up the bottle with ease, screwing the lid back on. But, Peter realized her towel had slipped down and wonders if he should say something–she had to of known though, _right_? 

“Uh, MJ–your–it’s,” Peter is almost terrified to say the word boob out loud, so he gestures in the general direction.

“ _Shut it_ , Peter.” MJ grumbles under breath, yanking the towel up over her exposed breast.

“Right, sorry. _Shutting up_.” He says quickly, looking the opposite direction as she grabs some alcohol wipes from the kit and rubs them against the wound, a little harshly in his opinion. It was a random thought that popped in MJ’s head, but Peter was handling this a lot better than she thought he was going to. She figured he would bail after the first five seconds and ignore it until they eventually forgot it even happened.

He watches her for the next five minutes, focused and silent. She doesn’t talk the entire but Peter can’t help but stare now. He can barely feel the needle as she finishes up the last couple of stitches, but then she finishes and things get awkward.

“I can add that one to the list of weird things that have happened while stitching me up,” Peter says out of nowhere and MJ looks at him, perplexed.

“What?”

“Like that one time Ned walked in and I was laid out over your kitchen table.” He explains, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Or the time that you– _you know_ –when I was stitching down by your groin.” MJ says.

“You promised you’d never bring that up again.” Peter cringes.

“What are you calling this one?” She asks, playing along with his little game of recalling all of the embarrassing times she’s had to deal with while fixing him up.

“The one time you had to stitch me up naked?”

“Are you objectifying my body, Parker?” MJ asks, eyes narrowing as she moves closer. 

Peter’s entire chest was flushed in embarrassment and she can hear him audibly gulp.

“No-No, what? Of course not.” Peter stutters, shaking his head furiously.

“ _Good_.” Is all MJ says before she twists her hand in the hair near the nape of his neck and yanks him forward, forcing their lips together.

“ _M_ –,” Peter struggles to say, but quickly falls in tandem with the kiss. There was no way he was ruining whatever _this_ was. He knows they had been tip-toeing around each other, but he never expected anything to happen like this.

Peter reaches forward, urging her to move closer. She does, leaning over his body enough to for his hand to rest against her hip, but not enough that her towel would fall off. There isn’t a fight for dominance over the two, both of them fit together like puzzle pieces and it _worked_. He kisses her back with passion and fervor–and god, he’s never felt like this before.

MJ is the first to pull away, slightly out of breath. Peter wants to chase after her but he’s still, staring at her in both curiosity and amazement.

“What was that for?” Peter asks.

“Don’t worry about it, _Parker_.” MJ tells him, thumping him on the forehead. 

Secretly, MJ had finally built up the courage to make the first move. Maybe it was the lack of clothing barrier that helped set the mood–or whatever they called it. But, it was also comforting to know that Peter wasn’t trying to be a complete dick about the whole situation. 

MJ gracefully pushes herself off the ground and grabs the suit, throwing it at his head. Peter doesn’t catch it near as gracefully on his part.

“Now, get out. I’m trying to get dressed. _Alone_.” MJ tells him, pointing towards the door.

“Fair enough.” Peter says, throwing his hands up in defense. 

MJ shakes her head, chuckling under her breath. She hears the door click behind her as she drops her towel, quickly pulling on her underwear and a thin shirt to cover her naked chest. She doesn’t hear the door click back open when she closes her closet door, she doesn’t hear Peter’s footsteps behind her when she leans down to pick up the towel. But, she isn’t surprised when she feels Peter’s lips against her cheek, leaving a soft peck.

“I forgot to say thank you.” Peter says softly, and MJ smiles and closes her eyes. “So, thank you.”

“Next time I’m letting you bleed out.” She snarks, elbowing him softly in the chest. “ _Loser_.”

There’s no bite behind her words and Peter can hear that. She can hear him laugh, pulling the mask over his face to conceal his identity. 

“Whatever you say, _Jones_.” Peter quips, zipping towards her window and out on the landing in seconds. “See you tomorrow.”

MJ makes sure to lock her window this time, just in case he had the bright idea to swing back by. She’d had enough Peter Parker for one night. But, she couldn’t help laughing herself to sleep over the fact that–yes, she had a crush on Spiderman, who also happened to be Peter Parker, the biggest dork she had ever met. But, also the kindest and least objective teenage boy in the Queens. She sends him a quick goodnight text before turning over in bed, ignoring the mess on her bedroom floor.

‘Quick question; who doesn’t keep towels in their actual bathroom?’ She reads, phone illuminating the room.

‘Who doesn’t know how to call a person or let them know they’re coming over so they don’t walk in on them naked?’ MJ types out quickly and hits send. Her phone dings half a second later.

‘… _touche_.’ 


End file.
